


There's a soldier that's freaking out

by LizziO



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Also the title is totally from Somewhere Now, Character Study, I just needed a way to talk about PTSD, I made researches but it's not an in depht analysis at all, I was 15 I did my best okay, I'm not a native english speaker so.., If there is anything else you think I should tag tell me, It's very short and is not really written like a story, Minor Character Death, My theme was How do people react to war, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, This was written for my english exam last year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 17:37:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10836084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizziO/pseuds/LizziO
Summary: Sam Wilson comes back from the war and tries to live again. At first, it doesn't work.





	There's a soldier that's freaking out

**Author's Note:**

> I KNOW THIS IS BAD OKAY BUT I DON'T WRITE ENOUGH THINGS TO CHOOSE WHAT TO POST Also this was written in 2 hours the night before it was due so I was stressed and tired. And... it's written in 1st person POV... I know I know everyone hates it but I didn't write it as a fic, and I tried to change it to 3rd person but it felt weird? Please read and tell me if you think I should change.

My name is Sam Wilson. I served two tours in the United States Air Force.  
I don’t know if I enjoyed that. I served my country. It was my duty.  
But my wingman and best friend, Riley, was killed during a mission.  
His plane was hit, and I could do nothing to save him.

I decided to leave the military because I couldn’t find a reason to serve anymore. It was too hard without him.  
I came back home, but everything was different. I had seen war and its horrors. I had seen my friends die before I could do anything. I had killed, too. 

It was hard to return to the daily life. I was always on the edge, waiting for a threat to arise from the shadows of my flat. Every time I went out, I located all the possible exits, I sat with my back to the wall and I made sure I had something to defend myself near me. I couldn’t sleep at night, reliving Riley’s death again and again. I felt guilty. I saw him everywhere, in the streets, at the coffee shop, at the park where we used to run every morning...  
I tried to continue to do it, but all I could think about was how I shouldn’t be doing it alone. He was always here, by my side. And now, he would never be again.  
I stopped jogging. I started to avoid the coffee shop.  
I went out less and less, and one day, I realized that I hadn’t left my home in nearly a month. I realized that I needed help. 

I made my research, and I found out that I was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, acronym: PTSD. It is a psychological response to the experience of intense traumatic events, where the nervous system is unable to return to its normal state of balance, even after the danger has passed.  
It affects a lot of veterans, and it has been called by many different names during History: “soldier’s heart” during the American Civil War, “shell shock” during WW1 or “war neurosis” during WW2, and “combat stress reaction” during the Vietnam War. It’s only in 1980 that it became known as PTSD, and that governments and associations started to try to help the people who suffered from it.

I learnt that focusing on my body by doing exercise could help me to relax. The importance is that the exercise must be rhythmic and repetitive. You must focus on your body and how it feels, and push away every other thought. Running without Riley was too early, so I started swimming. I swam until my entire body was sore. I was a good exercise, I didn’t have to think, and I could focus on my breath. I found a lot of calming gifs on the Internet, to synchronize my breath, or to calm myself after a panic attack.

I started to communicate with other veterans via forums, and I reconnected a bit with the world. They talked to me about the Veterans Affairs, but I didn’t feel ready yet. I thought that the minute I would talk to a real person, face to face, about my problem, it would become painfully real. I wasn’t ready yet.

That’s when I heard for the first time about ASMR. The Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response is a physiological response to a wide variety of stimuli. It’s generally a tingling sensation or a sensation of calm. The stimuli can be audio (the sound of rain, the scratching of a pencil on paper, pages being turned, whispers..) visual ( repetitive and symmetrical figures, calligraphy, people painting..) or tactile (massages, hair brushing, scalp massages..)  
It helped me a lot, to calm my panic attacks, and to fall asleep.

After a few months, I decided to go to the VA. During the firsts reunions, I didn’t speak, I just listened. Sometimes some vets talked about their experience, sometimes we just did breathing exercises and talked about something else. I eventually shared my own experience. I talked about Riley.  
Slowly, I started to bond with others vets. We were all in the same state, we had lived the worst of this world. But maybe there was a little bit of hope left.

I went out. I returned to the coffee shop. I started to run again in the park. I spoke with the people I met in the streets. I was recovering.

One day, a woman who served in Iraq shared her misadventure with a police officer. He stopped her car because he thought she was drunk. She saw a plastic bag on the road, and she swerved. She thought she was on the battlefield and that it was a grenade. That’s when I realized that I would never heal completely. There are some things that cannot be unseen. Things that cannot be undone. I had seen these things. I had done these things. The war would always be on the back of my mind, like a reminder of the world and its ugliness. I would never forget.  
But that didn’t mean that we were condemned. We could move on from the past and free ourselves, with time and determination. We could live, and make this world a better place. Or at least, we could try to help those who needed it and try to prevent the most of the damage possible. 

That’s why, three years after I came back, I accepted the job of counsellor at the Department of Veterans Affairs. I’m in charge of the meetings now. I give advice to the newcomers. They have my phone number if something happens, or even if they just want to talk.  
This is my job now. And I enjoy it this time.  

It’s been four years since I came back from the field. I go to the park to run every morning, and I stop by the coffee shop on my way back to home. I meet new people. I go out with my friends. I live again.  
There are still nights when I’m woken up by a nightmare, and days when I feel like giving up, but then I remember all these people who need my help, and all that I’ve already been through and how hard I had to fight to stand where I am today.  
And then, I think about Riley, and I know. I know what he would tell me.

“Always keep fighting.” 

So I keep fighting. For me, holding firmly my second chance, for the survivors who are not sure they deserve one, and for Riley, and all those who never had one.  
I think about them, and I know. I know they would be proud of us.  
And I keep fighting.

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr at @madcuriositea


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